3503 


Bailey 
Poema 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


'The  wild  earth  it  is  swinging  afree  from  its  place. 


oems 

By 
L.  H.  Bailey 


The    Cornell    Countryman 
Ithaca,  New  York,  U.  S.  A. 


Copyright 

By 

L.  H.  Bailey 
1908 


31 


3  LIE  on  my  back  on  the  shingle  shore 
Subdued  by  the  wind  and  the  pebbly 
roar; 
I  see  the  white  clouds  in  their  domes 
of  air 

And  the  specks  of  birds  that  are  floating  there; 
And  the  earth  is  small  and  the  sky  is  large  — 
I  forget  the  sense  of  my  time  and  charge; 
I  am  lost  in  awe  of  the  Great  Program  — 
Only  this  I  know  :  I  know  that  I  Am. 


The  wild  earth  it  is  swinging  afree  from  its  place, 
It  is  rolling  adrift  on  the  limitless  space, 
It  is  sailing  away  past  cerulean  bars, 
It  is  passing  the  moon  and  the  sun  and  the  stars: — 
And  the  wind  and  the  wind  it  is  following  fast, 
And  the  sunshine  and  shadow  are  scurrying 

past, 
And  white  cloud-shafts  are  pointing  with 

fingering  streams 

That  are  caught  and  are  lost  in  the  myths  of 
my  dreams. 


Oh  carry  me  out  to  the  bold  deep  sky, 
Oh  blow  me  away  through  the  blue, — 
I  will  snatch  the  years  as  they  hasten  by 
And  scatter  their  days  as  the  dew: 

For  the  years  and  years  are  but  shapes 

profound 

That  are  bred  in  the  depths  sublime, 
And  that  ride  and  ride  in  their  fruitless  round 
On  the  perishing  wings  of  Time. 

Oh  carry  me  out  where  the  starlights  burn, 
Where  the  world-stuff  billows  and  sweeps, — 
I  will  grasp  the  orbs  as  they  pass  in  turn 
And  fling  them  adrift  on  the  deeps : 

For  the  worlds  and  worlds  may  vanish  as  air, 
And  schemes  of  the  universe  fall, 
Yet  will  I  fly  to  some  vast  Otherwhere 
And  hold  my  domain  Over  All. 


Cfje  Summons; 

kAVE  you  flung  your  arms  and  shouted  till 

the  forests  answered  back, 
Seen  the  footprints  of  the  cougar  or  the  black 

bear's  shambling  track  ? 
Have  you  ridden  mountain  horses  as  they  follow 

up  the  trails, 

Seen  the  court'sying  water-ouzel  and  the  scud- 
dling  of  the  quails? 

Then  you  come  with  me  to  Shasta 
Where  the  racing  waters  flow, 
Far  behind  the  dome  of  Shasta 
Where  no  tourists  ever  go, 
In  the  forests  deep  at  Shasta 
Where  the  mighty  fir-trees  grow. 

Have  you  smelt  the  pitch-knots  burning  as  they 

snapple  in  the  breeze, 
Have  you  seen  the  camp-smoke  rising  till  it 

billows  in  the  trees  ? 
Have  you  stretched  full  length  and  slumbered 

on  the  needles  for  a  bed 
With  the  sun-flecks  dancing  on  you  thro*  the 

tree- tops  overhead? 

9 


Then  we  11  go  to  find  the  rivers 
Where  they  open  to  the  sky, 
Wade  the  oozy  turbid  rivers 
Where  the  water =bushes  lie, 
Feel  the  salmo  in  the  rivers 
As  it  rises  to  the  fly. 

Have  you  heard  the  boiling  waters  when  they 

bubble  thro'  the  night, 
Felt  the  touch  of  roaming  night- winds  as  they 

wander  from  the  light  ? 
Have  you  breathed  the  wind  of  fir=trees  in  the 

silence  of  the  wood 

With  the  night=damps  closing  round  you  where 
no  human  ever  stood  ? 

Then  you  join  me  in  the  darkness 
Where  the  night  is  dense  and  deep, 
Stretching  silent  in  the  darkness 
When  the  wild  beasts  lie  asleep, 
Hear  a  startle  in  the  darkness 
Where  a  panther  makes  a  leap. 

Have  you  heard  the  rain=drops  tinkle  as  they 

strike  upon  the  leaves, 
Have  you  felt  the  fore=winds  freshen  when  they 

whiffle  in  your  sleeves  ? 
10 


Have  you  sat  beside  the  river  when  the  rain 
begins  to  pour 

So  you  know  the  fragrant  music  that  it  makes 
along  the  shore  ? 

Then  we  '11  hasten  to  the  weather, 
Be  it  rain  or  sun  or  cloud, 
To  the  hazy  purple  weather 
And  the  dust=deeps  that  enshroud, 
To  the  free  and  open  weather 
When  the  winds  are  wild  and  loud. 

Have  you  torn  thro'  thorny  thickets,  walked  a 

ten=mile  at  a  stage, 
Floated  down  the  falling  rivers  past  the  sedge 

and  saxifrage? 
Have  you  waited  at  the  deer=licks  for  the  coming 

of  the  game  ? 

Have  you  bivouacked  in  the  forest  till  you  Ve 
clean  forgot  your  name  ? 

Then  we  '11  off  into  the  forests 
Where  the  bubbling  waters  run, 
Shout  our  challenge  in  the  forests 
At  the  rising  of  the  sun, 
Build  our  night=fires  in  the  forests 
When  the  careless  day  is  done. 


11 


t.EAT  are  the  marvels  of  invention.  They 
^dominate  our  thoughts  and  dictate  our 
modes  of  life.  We  express  our  dominion 
by  inverting  the  course  of  nature.  We  turn 
I  night  into  day  that  we  may  riot  in  artificial 
illumination,  content  thereby  to  forego 
the  sunrise  &  We  shall  keep  all  the  good  things  that 
we  have  invented ;  but  the  novelty  will  pass,  we  shall 
adapt  the  miracles  of  our  own  making  to  the  days  and 
the  seasons,  and  in  good  time  we  shall  return  to  a 
natural  order. 

|AVE  you  risen  at  the  daybreak 

When  the  world  is  cool  and  free 
And  the  dawn  comes  up  triumphant 
Like  the  freshness  of  the  sea  ? 

Have  you  felt  the  nature  kinship 

As  you  walk  in  fields  alone 
When  the  morning  light  is  breaking 

And  the  world  is  all  your  own  ? 

Have  you  heard  the  first  bird  calling 

From  the  passing  of  the  night 
When  the  dew  is  on  the  grass=land 

And  the  corn=tops  feel  the  light  ? 

13 


Have  you  known  the  youthful  laughter 

Of  the  brook  upon  its  bed 
Ere  the  remnants  of  the  darkness 

From  its  scented  pools  have  fled? 

Have  you  seen  the  wild  things  feeding 
In  the  sun-break  and  the  shade 

Living  each  his  mode  and  habit 
When  there 's  none  to  make  afraid  ? 

Have  you  smelt  the  tonic  fragrance 

When  the  morning  airs  distil 
And  you  spread  your  chest  and  breathe  it 

Till  it  sends  your  nerves  athrill  ? 

So  the  dawn  is  rousing 
Rousing  bird  and  bee, 

Thro*  the  ages  calling 
Calling  you  and  me. 

Yet  we  still  are  sleeping 
Sleeping  with  our  ills, 

While  the  world  is  waking 
Waking  on  the  hills. 

14 


Spending  hours  at  midnights 
Making  mimic  day, 

Longing  for  amusement 
Burning  life  away. 

For  we  yet  are  children 
Playing  with  our  toys, 

Grasping  at  the  firelights 
Humored  by  the  noise. 

But  I  think  I  see  the  future 
In  the  distance  where  it  lies 

Like  a  vision  of  the  morning 
Stretching  out  beneath  the  skies. 

Nor  mankind  will  know  its  mission 
Nor  its  doubts  will  be  withdrawn 

Nor  the  race  will  be  perfected 
Till  it  rises  with  the  dawn. 


15 


€f>e  Cfjttfo  &ealm 

LITTLE  child  sat  on  the  sloping  strand 

Gazing  at  the  flow  and  the  free, 
Thrusting  its  feet  into  the  golden  sand, 
Playing  with  the  waves  and  the  sea. 

I  snatched  a  weed  that  was  tossed  on  the  flood 
And  unraveled  its  tangled  skeins; 

And  I  traced  the  course  of  the  fertile  blood 
That  lay  deep  in  its  meshed  veins ; 

I  told  how  the  stars  are  garnered  in  space, 
How  the  moon  on  its  course  is  rolled; 

How  the  earth  is  hung  in  its  ceaseless  place 
As  it  whirls  in  its  orbit  old. 

The  little  child  paused  with  its  busy  hands 

And  gazed  for  a  moment  at  me ; 
Then  it  dropped  again  to  its  golden  sands 

And  played  with  the  waves  and  the  sea. 


16 


Country  g>cf)ool 


certainly  will  come  a  day 
As  men  become  simple  and  wise, 
When  schools  will  put  their  books  away 
Till  they  train  the  hands  and  the  eyes  ; 
Then  the  school  from  its  heart  will  say 
In  love  of  the  winds  and  the  skies  : 

I  teach 

The  earth  and  soil 
To  them  that  toil, 
The  hill  and  fen 
To  common  men 

That  live  just  here  ; 

The  plants  that  grow, 
The  winds  that  blow, 
The  streams  that  run 
In  rain  and  sun 

Throughout  the  year  ; 

The  shop  and  mart, 
The  craft  and  art, 
The  men  to=day, 
The  part  they  play 

In  humble  sphere; 

17 


And  then  I  lead 
Thro*  wood  and  mead 
By  bench  and  rod 
Out  unto  God 

With  love  and  cheer. 
I  teach. 


18 


EATHER  and  wind  and  waning  moon, 

Plain  and  hilltop  under  the  sky, 
Ev'ning,  morning  and  blazing  noon, 

Brother  of  all  the  world  am  I. 
The  pine-tree,  linden  and  the  maize, 

The  insect,  squirrel  and  the  kine, 
Ail-natively  they  live  their  days — 

As  they  live  theirs,  so  I  live  mine. 
I  know  not  where,  I  know  not  what : — 

Believing  none  and  doubting  none 
What'er  befalls  it  counteth  not, — 

Nature  and  Time  and  I  are  one. 

The  wild  bird  fashions  its  nest  of  straw, — 

The  bird  abides  by  its  time  and  law ; 

The  forest  stands  by  the  night  and  day, 

The  flower  blooms  and  it  fades  away; 

The  earth  grows  green  and  the  earth  grows  brown, 

Life  rises  up  and  then  death  comes  down ; 

The  life  and  soul  of  the  things  that  be, 

It  flows  on  and  on  unceasingly. 

The  wind  blows  out  to  the  ageless  sky, 
And  the  astral  clouds  go  floating  by ; 

19 


The  rain  descends  and  the  rivers  flow, 
The  summers  come  and  the  winters  go ; 
The  dusk  returns  and  the  morning  light, 
And  call  of  day  and  the  voice  of  night ; 
The  ages  run  to  a  silent  sea, 
Flowing  and  flowing  eternally. 

I  am  the  bird  in  its  nest  of  straw 

And  I  abide  by  my  time  and  law; 

I  am  the  tree  standing  night  and  day, 

And  I  am  the  plant  that  fades  away; 

And  men  grow  green  and  the  men  grow  brown, 

And  life  rises  up  and  death  drops  down ; 

And  men,  and  life,  and  the  things  that  be, 

They  flow  on  and  on  unceasingly. 

I  am  the  wind  that  blows  to  the  sky, 
And  ageless  cloud  that  goes  floating  by ; 
I  am  the  rain  and  the  river  flow, 
I  am  the  seasons  that  come  and  go ; 
I  am  the  dusk  and  the  morning  light, 
The  call  of  day  and  the  voice  of  night ; 
And  I  pass  out  to  the  silent  sea, 
Flowing  and  flowing  eternally. 


20 


Jf  armer 


HOE  and  I  plow 
I  plow  and  I  hoe 
And  the  wind  drives  over  the  main. 

I  mow  and  I  plant 
I  plant  and  I  mow 
While  the  sun  burns  hot  on  the  plain. 

I  sow  and  I  reap 
I  reap  and  I  sow 
And  I  gather  the  wind  with  the  grain. 

I  go  and  I  come 
I  come  and  I  go 
In  the  calm  and  the  storm  and  the  rain. 


21 


So  here  then  endeth  the  Book  of  certain  Poems  by  L. 
H.  Bailey,  as  done  into  a  booklet  by  The  Roycrofters, 
at  their  Shop,  which  is  in  East  Aurora,  N.  Y.,  mcmviii 


PS 
3503 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

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